


To a Good Year

by LivingInSmilesIsBetter (axm)



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axm/pseuds/LivingInSmilesIsBetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't have any plans this NYE, except to go home, sleep, try to forget all she had lost. But, oh, maybe it was time to start a new tradition. (NYE prompt fill; Henry/Jo friendship)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To a Good Year

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt found at the Forever-Fanfiction tumblr:
> 
> henry and jo in times square on new years eve (maybe on a case and they get caught up in the countdown hmm?)

Standing on the edge of a dark alley, a body on the pavement before her, Jo raised her eyes and gazed up at the dark sky, feeling a sigh building in her lungs. The threat of snow was thick in the air, and it only made her feel even colder than she already was, and a whole lot more miserable. Shivering beneath her thick coat, she stuffed her gloved hands in her pockets to fight the chill, but it wasn't enough. As she'd left her home she had pulled a beanie over her head, but in her haste she had forgotten one thing: a scarf. Now her nose was numb, and the lack of feeling was spreading through her, down to her bones. Dropping her chin, she huffed out the soft sigh, her breath visible in the air before her, and turned her attention to Henry, bent over the body, doing a visual examination with his scarf pulled up high to cover his chin. She felt a little envious of how warm he looked. Like the cold wasn't even bothering him. It wasn't fair.

"So what do you think, Doc?" Hanson asked, shifting his weight, growing impatient. "Murder?"

Henry straightened, eyes shrouded with a hint of sadness of his own, and turned to Hanson. "No, this was a rather tragic accident." Indicating the motorcycle a few feet from where the body had come to rest, Henry announced, "It appears his scarf became caught in the rear wheel of his motorcycle, asphyxiating, and almost decapitating him."

Jo suppressed a shudder. Suddenly she felt a little less jealous of Henry's own scarf. It was better to be a little cold, she decided, than to spend the night on ice in the morgue.

"Ouch." Hanson grimaced.

"Indeed," Henry agreed.

A surge of relief flowed through her, despite the horror of the accident. A tragic event, but an accident nonetheless. She had anticipated being called out, just before midnight, on New Year's Eve, it was a macabre tradition she'd come to accept over the years. But she trusted Henry, and, if he said nothing sinister had occurred, she was free to go. "What a way to end the year," she lamented, speaking of both the victim, and herself.

Hanson had perked up though, and knowing why only made her heart a little heavier. She was happy for Hanson, but some days it only reminded her of her own loss, the emptiness she was feeling now, and it was just a little harder to force the smile to reach her eyes. She watched as he checked the time on his phone, as a grin formed on his face. "All yours, Doc. I'm off to ring in the New Year with Karen."

"Have a good evening, Detective, and a happy new year to you and your family," Henry replied, his voice warm.

"Happy new year," he replied to both Henry and Jo, before turning and leaving the scene.

"It's his tradition, how he always starts the New Year," Jo explained to Henry.

"It's a lovely tradition." They watched in silence as the body was zipped into the bag and loaded onto a gurney. "How about you, Detective?" he asked her once the doors on the coroner's van had been closed. "Plans for tonight?"

Jo felt her shoulders deflate a little. "No, Henry. No plans. Not this year."

Pulling his watch out of his pocket, he smiled and then lifted his eyes to hers. "There's one tradition in this city I've yet to attend, and I was thinking this might be the year to start."

"Oh?"

"Times Square."

Jo lifted an eyebrow in interest. It seemed so unlike Henry, the crowds, the noise, the bright lights. "Really, Henry?"

"If we left now we could arrive just before the ball drops."

"We?" she asked, a lilt in her voice.

He threw her a grin. "Care to accompany me?"

"Don't you have an autopsy to perform?"

"In the morning," he replied.

Hope lit up his eyes and she couldn't refuse. "Fine," she relented. "But then I'm going home, and sleeping, like my original plan had been earlier this evening."

"Long week?"

"Long year," she said on a sigh.

He nudged her with his elbow, and gave her a warm smile. "Let's start this new off right, what do you say?"

"Let's do it," she agreed.

* * *

He did his best to fill the car with sound while she drove them through the city towards the celebrations. She did her best to respond with more than soft grunts of agreement, but truth be told she just wasn't feeling it. But perhaps there was something in saying goodbye to the year, and all the pain it had held for her. Maybe there was something in looking to the future with a more positive attitude. At least it was warm in the car.

Finding a spot for the car as close as she could, she cut the engine and turned to him.

"Gonna have to walk the rest of the way, I'm afraid," she told him.

He was already stepping out of the car, a bounce in his step, and she couldn't help shaking her head and smiling at him. Thrusting her hands back in her pockets, she fell into step beside him on the sidewalk, and asked, "How long have you lived in the city?"

He was silent for a moment, before replying, "A few years now."

"And you've never spent New Year's Eve in Times Square because?"

Silence fell between them again, and when she turned to his profile she could see his lips pursed.

"Abigail?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Yes." He turned and met her eyes. The smile he flashed her was tinged with sadness as he said, "Time for new traditions."

She was certain the smile on her own face matched his.

* * *

She freed her hands from her pockets once they reached the sprawling crowds, and her lips lifted in pleasant surprise when his hand found hers, clasped it with a gentle touch, and he led her into the sea of people. They pushed in, just far enough to get caught up in the excitement rippling through the air around them. He dropped her hand once they had claimed a tight spot between revellers, and she jammed her hand back in her pocket again, but it felt a little warmer now. Their sides brushed, her body jostled gently into his by those around them, and she stole what extra warmth she could. Yet the shivers still rippled through her tired body. Her nose was most definitely numb now, and her bones felt ready to shatter. She tried to make her chin disappear into the collar of her thick coat, but it wasn't quite enough. They stood quietly, shoulder-to-shoulder, and while he didn't speak, she could feel him watching her in her peripheral. The countdown was imminent, and then she'd be home, tucked up in a warm bed, giving into the oblivion of sleep.

Her hands buried deeper into her pockets, and she pulled them tight against her body, her side leaning into his a little more, without her permission.

He moved then, his arm rubbing hers as he reached up. She turned to find him tugging his scarf out of his coat, unwrapping it from around his neck. Before she could ask what he was doing, he had draped it around her shoulders, wrapped it loosely around her own neck, wrapping her in his scent, and offered her the ends to tuck down her coat.

She looked at him, utterly dumbfounded.

"You're cold," he said, his voice barely rising above the noise of the people around them. Leaning in closer to her, he murmured near her ear, "Now tuck those ends in so that they don't get caught in spokes."

She chuckled. She couldn't help it. Doing as she'd been told, she unzipped her coat just enough to tuck the ends in, and then zipped it back up and sank her chin down into the soft wool now cocooning her in warmth. "Thank you," she said, her soft voice only just audible through the scarf. Soft, and warm, and comforting. She might forget to give it back.

"You're welcome," he replied, his side pressed tight against hers now.

"Now you're cold," she told him.

"I'll survive." He nudged her, and lifted his eyes. "It's starting."

Following his eyes, she let out a soft laugh as Henry began counting down beside her, the ball slowly sliding down the flagpole. She joined in, yelling the numbers along with the million plus people around them. When it reached one, she turned to her partner. Above the noise, as confetti filled the air and she completely gave in to the moment, she announced, "Happy New Year, Henry."

He grinned, and replied with a jovial, "Happy New Year, Jo."

She hesitated for a moment, Auld Lang Syne flowing around them, a chorus of voices coming together. Colored paper rained down on them, and as he grinned at her she couldn't resist. She leaned in and brushed her lips across his cheek. It was just a whisper of a kiss, but his skin was warm against her lips despite the cold, and she wished she could lingered just a little longer. She pulled back, and his grin widened. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her in for a brief hug, and she allowed her scarf-clad chin to rest of his shoulder, allowed her body to melt into his. He rubbed a hand up and down her back, and whispered into her ear, "It's going to be a good year."

A little shiver ran through her when his warm breath caressed her cheek, a different kind of shiver to the ones she'd been fighting earlier. Pulling away before she could give too much thought to her body's response, she gave a curt nod, and moved back to her original spot, at his side, shoulder-to-shoulder again. The booms of fireworks echoed in the night, the pyrotechnics firing off and lighting up the dreary sky above them, and she smiled. "You know what, Henry?" she said, her eyes moving to the large glowing numbers announcing the start of a new year. "I think you might be right."


End file.
